William Leith has problems understanding medicine labels.
I’ve always had a problem with the things people write on the sides of medicine bottles. I get the impression that the people who write these things – these instructions and warnings – don’t speak my language. Either that, or they don’t really want to connect with me.
Funny that. I’ve never had a problem. If it says “avoid alcohol” I presume it means don’t mix this drug with alcohol. If it says “may cause drowsiness, don’t drive or operate machinery” I presume it means that I shouldn’t drive or operate machinery while taking it. Still, there is always the cretin factor.
I remember the last time I actually read the leaflet for an over-the-counter medicine. The light had gone in my bathroom, so I was cleaning my teeth in the dark. It was early evening. I removed the cap from a tube, squeezed some stuff on my toothbrush and began to clean my teeth. After a few seconds of vigorous brushing, I could tell something was wrong. The toothpaste tasted odd. I spat it out in the sink, rinsed my mouth, and spat again. Something not very nice slid down my throat.
I had a closer look at the tube. It was Canesten – cream for thrush. It had a strange, numbing effect in my mouth. In the medicine cabinet was the box it came in. In the box was the instructional leaflet. Out of curiosity, I scanned the leaflet.
“Canesten cream is for external use only,” it said, “and should not be put in the mouth or swallowed. If it is swallowed accidentally, seek medical advice immediately.”
Maybe it should have said, don’t brush your teeth with this in the dark, eh? Twat.
The trouble with medicine labels is that they are in the business of not being clear and straightforward. That’s the whole point of them. They are not there to give you an accurate picture of a medicine’s possible downside. They are there to cover the company that makes the medicine in the event of a lawsuit. The message on my leaflet should have been: “If you swallow a tiny bit, don’t worry. If you continue to worry, stop. If you call a doctor, he will think you’re an idiot.”
They are straightforward and you are an idiot.
William Leith brushing his teeth with Caneston seems quite apt.
“they don’t really want to connect with me.” The language of a pompous, self absorbed little halfwit. Sounds like he needs some English comprehension lessons.
Sounds about average for a Grauniad columnist.
Warning: this product is intended for Twats only.
I see that dark humour is catching 👿
Not only is he a twat, he doesn’t mind letting everybody know how much of a twat he is through the medium of the national press.
Which makes him an even bigger twat.
God invented thrush so that women would know what it is like having to live with an irritating twat.
The proposed revised instruction “Do not drink alcohol whilst taking this medicine” presumably means that you shouldn’t was the pills down with a G&T, but once you have taken them, I’ll be OK.
Stoopid kunt, no wonder he used thrush creme in his mouth.
The shit he spouts, I would have thought brushing his teeth with Preparation H would have been more apt.
Don’t forget the evil Big Pharma nasty greedy conniving underhand etc etc subtext. Bill may brush his teeth with twat cream but see how the white-heat of his laser understanding sees though to the *real* reason warnings are worded the way they are. Which, wouldn’t you know, is exactly the same boiler-plate bullshit as ever.
Up to the early 80s, there used to be a single data sheet for medicines meant for doctors and pharmacists to aid them prescribing and dispensing and enable them better to inform the patient.
Package labelling was relatively simple, confined to simple advice and warnings and no leaflets.
Enter the EU and harmonisation of medicines licensing and thus a melange of all the National idiosyncrasies of Europe which provided fertile ground for the bureaucrats.
It was determined the patient should also get a data sheet – in fact a PIL = Patient Information Leaflet – which would translate the information for professionals into layman-speak.
What appears on the labelling is mandated by law or what the licensing authority ‘likes to see’. The exact wording and phrasing usually has to comply with the whims and wishes of the assessors whose grammar – thanks to modern education practices – leaves much to be desired, in order to be approved.
So don’t blame the drug companies for the mostly useless and copious drivel on their products, say Thank You EU once again and marvel how bureaucrats and simplicity are mutually exclusive.
Pity he didn’t get hold of the pile ointment instead.
It’s not the leaflets that cause me problems, but the “child-proof” caps. I have to get next doors kids round to open them for me.
I have that problem.